


hellhounds on my trail

by flashrevolver



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23220553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashrevolver/pseuds/flashrevolver
Summary: the never before posted fic i wrote for the reaper zine. a short exploration of gabriel reyes losing himself to the reaper
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	hellhounds on my trail

Gabe was never sure if he heard the barking or imagined it. Every time he felt the Reaper gnashing its teeth, lunging for his throat, he heard it. Afterwards, he always realized it could’ve been the sound of blood pounding in his head as the smoke consumed him. Sometimes he was too horrified to notice, watching his fingers dissipate as panic choked the breath out of him—or maybe his lungs were evaporating, too.

He used to hear stories about hellhounds that crawled up through the earth and dragged sinners back down with them. Sometimes when he heard the blood roaring past his ears he could swear it was those hellhounds, inches from his face in the dark, ready to tear his form to shreds and carry his soul down like hunted prey. But he was never sure.

These hounds were always the last thought in his head before he had what the Blackwatch medics referred to as an “episode”.

“This isn’t you,” he remembers Jesse saying, once. “You aren’t Reyes. This isn’t Reyes.”

The words were spat through blood, either from biting his tongue or lip when he’d been slammed against the wall. When Gabe had slammed him against the doorframe connecting his office to the long, dark hallway. It would’ve hurt less to hear those words if it truly wasn’t him. 

Sometimes the “episodes” were short—Gabe blinking and realizing he had shaded an entire document black with his expensive pen, a bittersweet gift from Strike Commander Morrison. Sometimes the episodes looked like sleepwalking, and he tore through the hallways, senselessly pulling down security cameras and breaking open locks.

Sometimes, only recently, the episodes were days long. These were the episodes where he was completely awake and the only evidence of the Reaper was the inconsolable anger and those goddamn dogs barking in his ears.

The episodes, he knew what they were. And even through her amused smile and feigned ignorance, Doctor O’Deorain knew what they were. Sometimes he could pass it off as irritability. He could pretend that each time he snapped, threw his chair, shoved an agent, broke a tablet, called Jesse useless—Jesse, his second in command, his closest friend, his lighthouse, reduced to useless— 

He could pretend it was just a bad day.

Sometimes, pretending doesn’t work.

“Get out of my office,” he growls, voice dipping into the inhuman intonation caused by his vocal cords breaking down. Jesse remains, his arms crossed and anger sparking across his features. 

“Not until you tell me. Not until you say it to my face.”

Gabe stands forcefully, chair rolling and crashing into the wall behind him. 

“What exactly do you want me to say to you, McCree? You want me to remind you that I’m your boss? That we aren’t friends? I’m giving you a direct order, to get out of my—”

Jesse slams his hands down onto Gabe’s desk.

“I don’t give a shit about that anymore. I want you to tell me why you’ve changed like this. I want you to tell me what’s—” he flails his hands in a desperate gesture. “I want you to tell me what’s happening. Not some bullshit lie. The truth.”

Gabriel can hear the hounds. He can feel himself falling into that pit, on the edge of which he’s been teetering for days. He coughs harshly, blackened spit wetting his lips. 

“I know Moira’s been experimenting on you. I’m not a complete idiot. But why? Why are you letting her mess you up like th—”

Gabe’s across his desk before he realizes he’s lunging. The crack of Jesse’s head against the tile floor is sickening, but Gabe keeps his arm pressed firmly across his throat. He can feel his muscles twitching and his skin tearing to pump out waves of black smoke. His ears are ringing and the dogs are barking. 

Jesse’s eyes go wet and unfocused from the blunt trauma, the anger on his face now being taken by fear. 

“Gabe,” he slurs, and Gabriel feels his skin go red hot at the pain in Jesse’s voice. His entire body evaporates, reforming in the doorway, and he tears through the hallways back to his room, leaving Jesse confused and concussed on the floor of his office.

If Jesse tells anyone, it never comes back around to Gabe, which means he probably didn’t. Gabe isn’t sure if he’s relieved or angry. Once he’s back in his right mind he replays the scene hundreds of times, wondering why he couldn’t stop, and mentally flagellating himself for injuring Jesse so badly, let alone leaving him to his own devices when he clearly needed medical attention. Gabe can recognize a concussion when he sees one.

Moira tells him increased aggression is a side-effect of the treatment. She says he may notice uncharacteristic changes in his demeanor and behavior, and there’s no way to prevent it. Everything Moira says is off-handed, as though she can’t be bothered to empathize in the slightest, and it lights a fire under Gabe’s skin.

“You should return to normal in no time.” A fake smile. A curt nod. Their talk is over, and Moira turns on her heels to leave, unceremoniously. 

It would be incredibly bold of him to regret his decision, Gabe acknowledges to himself, and so he doesn’t. In fact, he lets go of almost all his regrets throughout the course of the following months. His decisions are quick and brash. He knows what he wants, and he gets it. Morrison’s fist against his office door is a common occurrence, along with Morrison’s red-faced anger, but Gabe can’t bring himself to care.

Jesse leaves. Seven of his agents are killed by an order he gave. Jack stops looking him in the eye. Winter falls heavy over Switzerland, and the Swiss base falls in a blaze of glory, fire, melting walls, fleeing agents, and howling black dogs. 

Jack Morrison is dead, and so is Gabriel Reyes.

The Reaper attends both funerals.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
